Of Cats And Dogs
by awkwardcheezit
Summary: Hungary is tired from previous wars, and she certainly doesn't want to get into another one. But when one of her dogs is taken by Romania, her rival and country she despises, will she have to start one? (Slight Rom/Hun in later chapters; rated T for language)


**(AN: I've had writing block for KTS, so instead I started this. It's just an idea I had, so I decided to write it down. This is only the first chapter, I have other ideas for this story to put in later. I apologize for any OOCness, and I hope you enjoy!)**

"Romania!" Hungary emphasized the vowels in a shrill voice as she snapped her fingers.

She arched her back against her chair at the end of her long table in her dining room, and waited a little while before calling again.

"Romania!" Hungary let out the command in a short, loud burst.

When the second call escaped her lips, a small jingling sound was heard and a medium sized, fluffy, brown dog with pointed ears entered and sat by her side.

"Good boy," Hungary ruffled the fur on the dog's head. "You know, sometimes I regret naming you after that stupid country. It really is a shameful name. Oh well; you're a pleasant dog, and you come _most _of the time when I call you. As a reward, you can have this."

Hungary moved the scraps of her recently devoured steak to the center of her plate, and then she placed it in front of the dog. The dog, with its tail thumping against the ground, happily licked up the leftover meat. Hungary grinned and stroked the fur on the dog's back. This Romania definitely had potential, and maybe it could even join the other dogs, also named Romania, for guard duty. Exhaling with a subtle grunt, Hungary screeched her chair along the floor, stood up, and clicked off down the hallway in her boots.

"That Romania has been awfully quite lately…he's planning something; I know it!" she murmured while walking. "If he's planning an invasion then I'll hand him his ass on a silver platter. He should know better than to challenge me…"

Her soft clicks turned into stomps of rage as she whipped open the door to her study. Swiveling her leather chair around, she plopped down vengefully – threatening to snap the chair legs. She let out a slow breath to calm herself, and put her palms to her face as she hunched over her desk. She didn't need another war. She didn't want another war. It was true Romania and she weren't on the greatest of terms, but she was too exhausted and busy with other things; she didn't have time to fight with him, and she certainly hoped he felt the same.

Pulling her hands away from her tired eyes, she leaned back in her chair. At least the paperwork was already finished. Her green irises moved along her wooden desk, glancing at all the familiar stacks of sorted documents. Bills, government papers, national issues, complaints…wait, what's this?

The country leaned forward as she eyed an envelope on her desk.

"No label…" Hungary commented, flipping the envelope from front to back.

Reaching forward, she snatched her envelope opener from a jar of miscellaneous pencils and pens on the end of her desk. Slicing open the envelope, she pulled out a very neatly written letter. Her eyes scanned the words sloppily spilled onto the parchment, and she gritted her teeth.

'Dearest Hungary—

I regret to inform you that one of your many beasts has "accidentally" (really, you could have tried harder) wandered into my space. I have taken him into my custody, since well, he is on my property now. You should find his collar returned to you sometime in the near future, because the name you gave him certainly doesn't fit, and I have no desire to give you the pleasure of naming it. "Romania" is such a fine name, but for a dog I really think that "Hungary" is a better name. I like dogs, so I'll treat him greatly. If any more of your dogs come over, I'll be sure to keep them. You're really funny with your little attacks; it's almost cute. They're only benefiting me, after all.

Thanks for the dog!

-Romania'

Thrusting the letter aside, she smashed her head into her palms and let out an agitated, muffled yell. Her boot thumped once, hard, against the inside of her desk. Brushing back her hair, she sat up, her face red from looking down. She tucked some strands of stray hair behind her ears and she rubbed her temples with the pads of her fingers. Her eyes were fixated on the abandoned letter to her left; she wanted to burn it with her eyes. Some of the words were skimmed over again, and her anger built. She snatched up the letter, along with a leather satchel, and briskly walked to the kitchen. She kidnapped a frying pan from a drawer, slammed the drawer shut, and made her way to her door. She almost opened the door, but then she stopped and pivoted around to view her foyer.

Turning to the umbrella holder, she spread apart the bouquet of umbrellas and pulled out a pistol. It wasn't her ordinary gun, but she liked to keep a small one that she could conceal. Stowing it away in her satchel, she decided to grab her rifle as well. Slinging the gun over her shoulder, she opened her front door, locked it behind her, and began her journey into the woods.

His room was dark, but he didn't mind it. In fact, the darkness seemed like a friend to him, but he wasn't a vampire like his folklores told of. Picking at his fang, he remembered the day Hungary punched him in the mouth.

"Stupid bitch," Romania spat, the feeling of his bleeding teeth came back to him and caused him to shiver.

It had all happened suddenly, and he admitted to himself that it was partially his fault. He had boasted about the Count and his whole family to everyone, since, of course, it was a great tale! Hungary and he had gotten into a fight about it, and he still remembered her words:

'If you like this Dracula guy so much, then why don't I make you the spitting image of him?'

That was right before he got pummeled in the face.

"I'm surprised she didn't do anything worse than chip my tooth," he chuckled, outlining his jaw line with his finger.

His eyes glossed over as he stared at his ceiling, remembering the past. The hand he had hanging off the side of his bed was met with a cold nose. Jerking his hand back, he propped himself up on his elbows to see what was at his bedside.

"Oh, that's right," Romania chuckled, looking down at a dog. "Hello there; I almost forgot that I confiscated you from Hungary."

Yawning, Romania planted his feet on the floor, and the dog, newly named 'Hungary', wagged its tail joyfully.

"I shouldn't have stayed up writing that letter," Romania said, stretching his arms up over his head and letting a yawn tumble from his mouth. "I wonder if she got it yet."

Grabbing his coat from a hanger on the back of his door and putting on his little hat, he opened his door. Sunlight poured in, and Romania shielded his squinting eyes from the brightness.

"Geez…I've gotta learn not to sleep past noon." Romania grumbled.

The dog dashed out from behind the country and sprinted down the hall, eager to find something to chew. Romania tisked, but smiled. He followed the canine, pausing every once in awhile to look out some of his huge windows; to which the dog doubled back to retrieve his attention again. The day was beautiful; lots of sunlight and only a few clouds drifted by. Disregarding the holes dug last night in his yard by the dog, everything seemed to be in top shape.

"At least you were gracious enough to leave the tulips," Romania commented.

The dog tilted its head and let its tongue flop out. When Romania went to pat it on the head, the dog sprinted down the hallway again, skidded to a stop in front of a door, and waited patiently.

"Is this some kind of game Hungary taught you?" Romania laughed, approaching the dog. "Or did she not discipline you very well? It could be either, since she does lack in quite a few things."

The dog lit up when Romania finally reached it, and it put its paws up on the door. Shooing it down, Romania turned the handle. The dog trotted in and plopped down in the middle of the floor. With ears and snout pointed to the country, it fell silent. Romania soon entered the room, the kitchen after the dog, and gazed down at it. At first, he was confused, but then he let out an "Oh!" and nodded to the dog.

"I guess you want food. I haven't had a dog – or even a pet – in a while. Let's see what I have," the country pulled the door of the fridge to examine its contents. "Huh…"

Jars of miscellaneous foods were tossed to the side of the fridge while the country tried to find something fitting for a dog.

"Well, you can't have carrots, pickles, or blueberries. I don't think bread would be a very good option either…uh," he cranked his head back to the dog and then returned his attention to the fridge. "Cheese won't do, and neither will celery. Oh, perhaps you'll like this."

Romania fished out a container full of hamburger patties. Upon cracking the lid, the dog seemed to smile and perk up. Setting the container down, Romania stepped back to give the dog room. Licking only the surface of the patty at first, the dog quickly mauled the meat and sat back down contently. Grinning, Romania set the container in the sink.

"Glad I could find you something. I'm going to have to get some dog food soon. Well, unless Hungary decides to pick you up," Romania rolled his eyes. "Eh, even if she does come by I won't give you up. She has enough dogs already."


End file.
